


Risen of the Ashes

by SOABA



Series: Septem Annorum [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Attempted Rape/Non-Con, BAMF Draco Malfoy, BAMF Harry, Canon-Typical Violence, Discussion of non-con, F/M, M/M, Manipulative Dumbledore, Mpreg, Not All the Weasleys are Good, Protective Draco, Protective Harry, Temporary Character Death, Temporary Death of an Unborn Child, Time Travel Fix-It, arthurian legends
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-14
Updated: 2017-03-28
Packaged: 2018-10-05 01:06:31
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 14,197
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10293914
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SOABA/pseuds/SOABA
Summary: ‘How could you rise anew if you have not first become ashes?’ – Friederich Nietzsche.All Harry Potter wanted after trouncing the Dark Lord was to live the rest of his life in peace with his lover, Draco Malfoy, who secretly served as his spy from their fifth year on. Instead, the Light decided that their savior was an asset that needed to be vigilantly controlled and that Draco needed to be separated from Harry and neutralized in the most permanent fashion. Harry and Draco were forced to run, but even they could not hide forever and, eventually, they were found. When the both of them are murdered by agents of the Light, Lady Magic decides to intervene and send her Champions back in time to alter the course of the War.





	1. Antelogium

**Author's Note:**

> Here's the Harry Potter story that I promised.
> 
> This story was heavily inspired by Keira Marcos, who is an amazingly talented author. If you haven’t read her work, you really need to - because it’s utterly fantastic.

**_Antelogium_ **

Draco was dying.

There was nothing that could be said or done to lessen the immutable agony that pulsed through his entire being as Harry was forced to watch the love of his goddamned life bleed out in his arms. He had no way to save his husband from this horrible fate, not while his magic was bound tightly inside of his core by the combined and continuous efforts of the three dozen highly-trained aurors surrounding him, Draco, and Percy Weasley. This was not how this night was supposed to have gone; his twenty-second birthday should never have involved the sight of cheap carpeting stained crimson or the slick feeling of blood trickling between Harry’s fingers and down his arms as he clutched Draco close to him.

“Percy, please!” Harry begged, his pride nothing in the face of the blood sliding down steadily from the corner of Draco’s mouth, “Please, stop this! I need him!”

Percy’s gaze held no trace of mercy or even pity, “Don’t you worry, Harry. Once the Ministry’s best have finished working you over, you won’t be able to remember that dark bitch’s name, let alone the sick love you have for him. You’ll be paired off with a suitable witch and be allowed to claim your titles.”

The Potter and Black titles had been kept from Harry because of Dumbledore’s interference. Harry had been ignorant of his nobility until after the War ended, but by that time it had been much too late to undo what the former Headmaster of Hogwarts had done. Because Harry had not claimed his titles within forty-eight hours of his fifteenth birthday, Dumbledore, using his status as Harry’s magical guardian, had placed a block on Harry’s inheritance. Thanks to the interfering bastard, Harry couldn’t claim his titles until after he was married to a pureblood witch.

What had rankled Harry the most was that Dumbledore had never truly possessed the authority to do such a thing. He had _never_ legally been Harry’s magical guardian. Sirius was, but since Sirius had been a wanted criminal at the time, Dumbledore had gotten away with claiming authority over the affairs of Harry’s magical estate. Harry had been planning to appeal this before the Wizengamot, on the grounds that Sirius had been exonerated in the wake of the war and since he had never even received a trial in the first place, it stood to reason that he had never actually been deemed an unfit guardian for Harry, but he had been forced to flee the country with Draco, Ron, and Hermione before he’d had the chance to do so.

“Harry,” Draco whispered weakly, lifting a hand to cup Harry’s cheek, “I… I love you, Phoenix.”

“Don’t you dare, Dragon,” Harry sobbed, catching Draco’s hand and squeezing it tight, “Don’t you dare leave me. I need you!”

“Harry,” Draco coughed up more blood, “Not… not your fault.”

Harry turned to Percy once again in sheer desperation and revealed, “Please, Percy, he’s pregnant!”

Percy smirked outright then, “Oh, Harry, why do you think that we’re here? You see, the Ministry was resigned to letting you have your little rebellion with Malfoy. They decided shortly after my foolish brother and his _mudblood_ wife died defending you, after you killed all of those aurors to avenge them, that, as long as you stayed out of the country, it just wasn’t worth the effort or expense to come after you. After all, in just three more years, the Potter and Black titles could have been seized and distributed by the Ministry, as is protocol when a Lord fails to claim his titles by his twenty-fifth birthday. But then you went and got that snake pregnant. The Ministry simply can’t allow you to _breed_ with someone like Malfoy and pass your titles down to any child he might spawn you.”

Harry was going to kill the smug bastard standing over him if it was the last thing he ever did.

Draco coughed again and Harry pulled him even closer, “Dragon, I love you, _please_.”

Draco took a final, shuddering breath and then Harry watched as the spark of life faded from him, watched as his beautiful, mesmeric quicksilver eyes dulled to an inert grey. Another sob escaped him as Harry pressed a bruising kiss to Draco’s lips one last time, ignoring the sharp tang of blood mixed with tears on his tongue.

Harry had thought that he understood the pain of loss. He had already had more than his fair share of loved ones snatched away from him during the twenty-two years he had lived on earth. His mother and father. Sirius. Ron. Hermione. Remus. Tonks. Fred. Teddy. Dobby.

None of their deaths had hurt him this badly.

It felt as though Harry was being torn apart from the inside-out. It took a few minutes to understand that he actually _was_. His magic was boiling inside of him, uncontrollable and as broken as Harry’s heart. It ripped the overpowered bindings placed upon him by the aurors into shreds within seconds and Harry screamed in rage, in anguish, in utter torment. A part of him distantly registered that Percy and all of the others in the room were screaming in pain as well.

And then everything went dark.

Later, if anyone had ever thought to ask him, Harry would not have been able to relate how much time had passed after his explosive death and before he opened his eyes to a world painted white. He knew at once that he was dead. Not because he had been in this particular place before, the colorless version of King’s Cross Station, or because he was as naked as the day that he was born, but because his _husband_ was standing less than ten feet away from him.

Draco was in the same state of undress as Harry and was staring at his left arm in shock. The pale skin of his forearm was unblemished for the first time since the Christmas during their fifth year of school, when Lucius Malfoy had forced the Dark Mark upon his son. Neither Lucius nor Voldemort had ever dreamed that Draco’s true loyalty was to Harry and had been since the summer between their fourth and fifth years, when Lucius had decided that Draco would make an excellent consort to the Dark Lord.

Harry took a step forward, drawing Draco’s attention away from his arm. Draco’s beautiful eyes widened immediately, “Harry?”

Harry crossed the remaining distance between them at a near-sprint. Within seconds, Draco was in his arms.

“Draco,” Harry murmured reverently against Draco’s cheek, as one of his hands wound its way into Draco’s platinum-blond hair and the other pressed against the small of Draco’s back, “Oh, Dragon, I’m so sorry.”

“We’re dead, aren’t we?” Draco spoke in an undertone, “My magic feels so _clean_ , Harry; it hasn’t felt like this since before I was marked.”

“We are,” Harry confirmed, “I’ve actually been here before. On the night of the Battle for Hogwarts.”

“What happens next?” Draco asked, pulling away just enough so that he was able to look Harry in the eye, “Do we board a train? That would be rather poetic, all things considered.”

“There could be a train,” a voice like silver bells rang out from behind Harry, “But whether or not it comes, and whether or not you board it, for that matter, is rather up to the two of you.”

Harry spun around, using his body to shield his dragon, and was greeted with the sight of an extraordinarily beautiful wisp of a woman, who sported hair the color of the brightest mithril and skin that glittered gold. Her eyes were shocking, a thick ring of dark purple around sparkling silver pupils, and the gown she wore seemed to be made of luminous, snow-white moonbeams. She moved with a grace that no mortal could ever have been capable of as she glided closer and closer to Harry and Draco.

Magic herself had come.

“ _Lady Melinia_ ,” Draco breathed out, his tone filled with all due reverence.

“My beloved War Mages,” Lady Melinia responded, gazing at them with such love that Harry could not help but feel comforted by her mere presence, “How you have suffered. I am so sorry for all that you have gone through. I could raze all of Britain and still my wrath over what has been done to you would not be satisfied. To think that I gave those wretched fools such a precious gift as the two of you and that they threw it away so callously! Part of me wishes that I had just left them all to rot when Voldemort rose to power. So few of them actually deserved to be saved.”

“That was our purpose then,” Draco spoke, coming out from behind Harry to stand at his shoulder, “To stop Voldemort?”

“One of them,” Lady Melinia inclined her head, “Voldemort had to be stopped and only a War Mage could have vanquished him.”

“We failed at accomplishing the others,” Harry stated bluntly.

“Through no fault of your own,” Lady Melinia was quick to assure him, “You were manipulated by those whom you should have been able to trust, my Phoenix.”

Harry blinked at the name that Draco had always exclusively used as a term of endearment. When Lady Magic spoke it, it sounded like a title.

“It was because of their interference that what should have come to pass did not,” Lady Melinia continued, “And now, because of them, there is no chance that magic will be able to remain on the earth. It will fade from Britain first and the loss will then spread out from there. The last magical child will be born on earth five years and seventeen days from now.”

“Because of us?” Harry asked, horrified, “Because we died?”

“Because your unborn sons died before they were ever born. Because the rest of your children were never even conceived,” Lady Melinia corrected gently, “They were ripped from the world by petty minds in the service of the _Night_ , and with them went the only hope for magic, for life.”

“What do you mean?” Draco questioned, his whole body trembling. Harry took his hand and Draco clung to it with his own as tightly as he could, as if Harry were going to be dragged away from him. Considering what had brought them to this place, Harry could relate.

“Magic sustains everything on earth, from the food that grows to the air that everything living breathes. When magic leaves the world, not even the Mundanes will survive the catastrophe that will follow.”

“Then the earth is doomed,” Draco swallowed heavily.

“Perhaps,” Lady Melinia said, “Or perhaps not. That depends on the choice that the two of you make next.”

“Choice?” Harry frowned at her. “What choice?”

“If the earth and the people on it are worth saving… or if they’re not,” Lady Melinia told him.

“We’re dead,” Draco reminded, “How could we possibly help save anyone now?”

“By allowing me to cast your souls back in time to a crucial moment in the battle between good and evil,” Lady Melinia explained, “By altering that moment, you will be able to alter everything that followed.”

Harry inhaled sharply and Draco stiffened perceptibly at his side.

“Will… will our babies come back with us?” Draco asked, after a long moment of tense and shocked silence.

“No, my Dragon,” Lady Melinia answered, understanding flashing through her remarkable eyes, “I can only send the two of you back. In truth, what I mean to do is send your souls, such as they are now, back into your younger bodies. You will retain your memories and your magical ability because such things _are_ your souls, but you were not pregnant at fifteen, my Dragon, and transforming your physical person from not pregnant at all to several months gone could create a backlash that would damage your magical channels significantly and perhaps permanently. But I can and will keep the souls of your children safe until you decide to reclaim them, whenever that should be.”

Harry and Draco exchanged a long look, a thousand things passing between them in an instant, and the Harry turned back to the Lady Melinia, “How far back will you send us?”

Lady Melinia’s smile was like the clouds parting to reveal the sun, “As far back as I can. Seven years.”

“My fifteenth birthday,” Harry realized.

“Yes,” Lady Melinia nodded, “It is absolutely imperative that you claim your birthright, my Phoenix, before the day is over.”

To keep the block that Dumbledore had set up from settling on his inheritance. Without the block, Harry could claim his titles and with his titles he would have a power and influence that he had not before. He would have the ability to change _so much_.

“Though it shall only matter for a short period of time, I have ensured that the two of you will be able to practice underage magic undetected until you both have safely reached the Potter Vault in Gringotts,” Lady Melinia announced, “I have left gifts for both of you in the Wand Archive inside the Potter Vaults. In a chest of emerald, there are two pairs of mated wands waiting for the two of you to claim them. Before you do so, however, it is of the utmost importance that you bind yourselves together and consummate your marriage. Do not even enter the Wand Archive until you have done so.”

“Yes, Milady,” Draco promised.

“When you awaken in the past,” Lady Melinia focused her attention on Harry, “You will discover that your link to Voldemort has been fully eradicated. As far as people like Albus Dumbledore need to know, your family magic purified your own.”

“Yes, Lady Melinia,” Harry agreed, rather relieved that he wouldn’t have to deal with having a horcrux inside of him for a second time.

“If you could have always removed it,” Draco frowned at her, “Then why did Harry ever have to have it?”

“I am only allowed to interfere when the gods deem it appropriate,” Lady Melinia huffed out a sigh of exasperation, “And the gods always take forever to make any decisions about anything unless the circumstances are catastrophic to them personally.”

“Earth losing magic would be disastrous to the gods?” Harry furrowed his brows in disbelief.

“Balance,” Melinia said simply, as if that one word explained everything, “Close your eyes, my War Mages, and think happy thoughts. This might sting a little.”


	2. Primum

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here you go guys! Just as I promised, :).

**_Primum_ **

Harry jerked awake with a gasp, his whole body throbbing with a hot pain, and then groaned, “ _‘Sting a little’_ , my arse. Fuck.”

Hedwig hooted in reproof from inside her cage and Harry snatched up the glasses resting on the table beside him before turning his head to stare at his familiar in wonder, physical pain forgotten as an old grief was washed away by overpowering waves of elation. He nearly tripped in his rush to get off the bed and over to her, fumbling to open her cage and then reaching inside to pet her with trembling fingers.

“Hello, beautiful,” Harry murmured, stroking her soft feathers reverently, “I’ve missed you terribly.”

Hedwig tilted her head and barked softly in confusion, obviously sensing that something had changed significantly since her charge had gone to sleep the night before, but unable to discern _what_. She hopped delicately from her perch to Harry’s arm, scooting far enough up the appendage to nuzzle tenderly at Harry’s cheek.

“I’ve had to do a bit of time traveling,” Harry admitted to her in an undertone, “But don’t worry, girl, Lady Magic herself is on my side. I have to go to Gringotts to take care of some business and collect my Dragon. I need you to go hunting until I call for you, someplace out of sight. Can you do that?”

Hedwig trilled in agreement and so Harry moved to unlatch his window, opening it wide. Hedwig nipped at his fingers affectionately and then flew off, her snow-white coloring a sharp contrast to the inky black sky.

Harry held out his right hand and his holly wand shot into it; wandless summoning was one of the first things that Hermione had insisted he learn post the War’s end. Harry gazed upon the tool with unhappiness; he had not missed it, save for practical reasons, one iota since he had lost it in the future that would now never be and he was quite looking forward to being rid of it again. But, for now, it would serve his purposes.

Chiefly to get out of Little Whinging, a place that Harry had hoped to never have to see or set foot in again, and get to Gringotts as quickly as possible.

First things first, “ _Tempus_.”

_‘5:24 a.m. July 31 st, 1995_,’ golden numbers and letters flared up before him instantly.

Harry slashed his wand down in a diagonal motion to end the charm. Gringotts would open at six o’clock on the dot. Which gave him thirty-six minutes to pack up everything he wanted to take with him and to create a temporary portkey. He would have to time leaving perfectly, because Dumbledore was sure to receive notice the moment that Harry was no longer safely ensconced within the wards protecting No. 4 Privet Drive.

Harry grimaced to himself as he dressed, he was going to have to go shopping as soon as possible because there was no way that he was going to keep wearing Dudley’s hand-me-downs after claiming his titles. Draco would know where to go to get better clothes. Packing was done hastily, Harry would completely reorganize his belongings once he had the time to do so, and then Harry wordlessly shrunk his school trunk until it was small enough to fit into the pocket of his too-large jeans.

That left him with just under a half hour before he needed to leave and Harry came up with a wickedly wonderful way to pass the time. Twenty-eight minutes later, Harry pulled his father’s invisibility cloak over himself and then lifted one of his aunt’s expensive throw pillows and uttered the enchantment that would turn it, temporarily, into a portkey. In a swirl of magic, he left Surrey behind, materializing on the steps of Gringotts in a matter of seconds.

Draco was waiting for Harry at the bank, hidden almost completely by the shadow of one of the building’s tall, fat columns. Harry wasted no time in throwing the invisibility cloak over Draco as well, pulling the other’s body flush against his own so that they were both completely obscured from the view of the few people wandering up and down the Alley.

“Dragon,” Harry greeted, sotto voce.

“Phoenix,” Draco whispered, relief coloring his tone, “It worked.”

“Evidently,” Harry replied, “I can’t think of another reason why I would have woken up in the second bedroom of my aunt and uncle’s house.”

“Were they an issue?” Draco asked.

“Not one bit,” Harry smirked, “I cursed all three of them with permanent incontinence as they slept. And no one will ever be able to trace the curse back to me.”

Draco huffed out a laugh, “You never should have talked the Sorting Hat out of putting you in Slytherin, Harry.”

“Did you have any trouble getting away?” Harry questioned.

“No,” Draco shook his head, “I just did exactly what I did the first time. Neither my parents nor Voldemort will realize that I’ve left the mansion until early tomorrow afternoon; that’s when they returned from their meeting with the werewolves, or will, I mean.”

Draco had come to Harry on the latter’s fifteenth birthday before too, revealing the revolting bargain that his father and Voldemort had struck in regards to Draco and swearing to help Harry end the Dark Lord even if it meant his life. They hadn’t loved each other then, despite knowing that they were Soulmates. Or rather, they hadn’t _allowed_ themselves to love each other then. It had taken time for their desperate alliance to turn to friendship and then to blossom into unbreachable devotion.

They began dating secretly, with only Ron and Hermione eventually knowing about it, at the beginning of sixth year in the original timeline. The secrecy had been a necessity at the time as Draco had been serving as Harry’s spy, collecting Voldemort’s secrets and ferreting them to Harry. They wouldn’t be taking that route again; Draco would be on Harry’s side publicly this time.

“Your father will know the moment that our marriage is sealed with magic,” Harry reminded gently. “He’ll feel your magic leave his house and his claim on you dissipate.”

Draco exhaled sharply, “Right. That will bring them all back sooner rather than later. Voldemort is going to be livid, especially when he learns that I’ve married _you_. He never learned about my betrayal of him in the first timeline, Harry. That will change things drastically.”

“He’s not going to touch you,” Harry swore, “No one’s ever going to hurt you again. Not Voldemort, not Percy, not anybody. They’ll rue the day they even _think_ about trying to harm you, about trying harm our family.”

Harry would eviscerate anyone who dared to so much as _breathe_ on Draco without asking permission first. His current mentality regarding his Dragon could be classified as overprotective, perhaps, but until he forgot how it felt to watch the love of his life die in his arms, it was hardly going to undergo another shift.

Would the image of blood spattered incongruously on the moon-pale canvas of Draco’s skin as he choked out rattled breaths ever fade away?

“I feel so empty,” Draco revealed then, in words that were almost inaudible, “I want them back so badly, Harry. It’s like someone reached into my heart and yanked out a part of it.”

Despite everything that they had gone through, despite how they feared the future, Draco had been so happy to tell Harry that they were going to be parents.

“If you don’t want to wait-” Harry began slowly.

“No,” Draco interrupted with unambiguous fortitude, “It would beyond reckless and imprudent to call our sons back into the world before Voldemort has been destroyed. It’s best if, for now, they remain in Lady Melinia’s keeping.”

“I swear to kill him as quickly as possible,” Harry promised.

“I know you will,” Draco returned, “We should get inside; we have a lot of work to do.”

Harry lifted the cloak off of them, folded it over his arm, and then allowed Draco to lead him, quickly, into the bank. They were the first customers of the day, which suited Harry and Draco just fine as they had little wish to be seen by any other witches or wizards until their business was done.

Harry walked purposely over to the nearest available Goblin to declare, “I’m here to claim my birthright as the eldest scion of the Ancient and Noble House of Potter and to solidify my place as the heir to the Ancient and Noble House of Black.”

The Goblin straightened immediately, “I shall go inform Chief Ragnuk at once.”

This was not surprising- Harry had learned in the wake of the War that the key to the Potter Family Vault had been entrusted to the Chieftain by James Potter before he had taken his wife and infant son into hiding. Ragnuk had sworn on his magic to only return the key to James, to Harry, if Harry turned fifteen and had to take his father’s place as Lord Potter, or to the Minister of Magic, if Harry perished before providing an heir or if he refused to claim the key before he turned twenty-five.

Harry had met Ragnuk once in the first timeline, and Ragnuk had quite obviously despised him for his actions during the horcrux hunt. The Chieftain had been almost gleeful when he had revealed that Dumbledore had placed a stringent block on Harry’s ability to receive his inheritance. Now, however, Harry had done nothing, at least not yet, to piss the Chief of the Goblins off and he would really rather that did not change; the Hoard was a dangerous enemy to have, but could also be a formidable ally if Harry played his cards right.

“Goblin etiquette,” Draco muttered under his breath, a reminder. Harry nodded in reply.

The Goblin returned promptly and gestured for them to follow him down a hallway, “The Chieftain will see you in his office.”

Harry and Draco were led down several corridors and then into an ornately decorated office. The Goblin Chieftain sat behind a desk of silver and had a golden tea service hovering in the air to his left. Harry sincerely hoped that Ragnuk would not try to offer them any of the floating tea, because even from a distance it smelled _foul_.

“Chieftain,” Harry inclined his head respectfully, “May your gold ever be uncountable and your enemies’ blood run like rivers at your feet.”

“So mote it be,” Ragnuk returned solemnly, “I have been told that you mean to claim your title as the Lord Potter, the Grand Duke of Albion, and to officially accept the mantle as the Heir to the Blackmore March, the next Marquess of Blackmore.”

“Yes, Chief Ragnuk,” Harry agreed, “I have. I apologize for not being able to forewarn you of my presence here today, but my ability to send messages discreetly has, unfortunately, been curtailed by the actions of others.”

Ragnuk nodded gravely, “I know of what you speak, Mister Potter. The headmaster of your school has tried many times to interfere in business that is not his. He sent a letter just yesterday detailing how he meant to block your inheritance; he would have succeeded had you not shown up here today.”

“Albus Dumbledore meddles in many things that he should not,” Harry said. “And he wields his considerable influence over the minds of others without care. It is a problem that will need to be rectified _soon_.”

“Snaggletooth will lead you to Vault Six Hundred and Thirty-Five,” Ragnuk announced with a decisive nod, ushering the goblin whom they had spoken to earlier forward, “Here is your key. I look forward to speaking to you as the Lord Potter.”

Harry took the ruby-studded mithril key from Ragnuk, “Thank you, Chieftain, it will be my pleasure. In fact, there are meeting rooms here at Gringotts where one can meet with others in safety, are there not?”

“There are,” Ragnuk nodded.

“I would like to request the use of one of these rooms on August the second at two o’clock in the afternoon,” Harry explained, “And it would be a great honor if you were to join my party as a witness.”

“Will your meeting have anything to do with the ignoble coward who dares to call himself a dark lord?”

“It will,” Harry admitted.

“Then I shall be there,” Ragnuk vowed, his mouth twisted up in a feral smile.

************************************************************************

The Potter Family Vault was empty save for a single pedestal in the center of the cramped space. It was made of twisted gold and proudly held up a small box encrusted with hundreds of tiny rubies. All Harry had to do was brush his fingers against it and the top of the square chest popped open with an almost inaudible _‘snick’_.

Inside, nestled snugly against crimson silk, were two rings, one larger than the other. Both were crafted of thickly braided mithril, a bright, silvery-gold metal that could never tarnish, and were set with dozens of blood-red rubies. Harry picked up the larger of the two, the Lord’s Ring, and slipped it onto the third finger of his right hand, “I, Harry James Potter, as the eldest scion of the Ancient and Noble House of Potter, do claim my birthright as the Lord Potter and the Grand Duke of Albion. I do solemnly swear on my magic and life to honor my magical legacy and the Ancient and Noble House of Potter in all that I do. _Animi et Constantia, Semper_.”

Magic rushed over him suddenly and the ring shrunk ever so slightly to fit perfectly around his finger; its presence was comforting, not cumbersome like Harry had feared it would be. The glamour which had made it appear as if the room was tiny and barren melted away to reveal a cavernous chamber full of gleaming galleons, sparkling sickles, and even a few piles of shining knuts. It was probably ten times the size of his Trust Vault and Harry knew that the money around him was but a small representation of the vast wealth stored underneath the main room and the other rooms that were connected to the main room via heavy crystal doors.

“Merlin, Harry,” Draco said wryly as he glanced around, “You said it, but I didn’t really believe it until now. Your family really was ridiculously rich; what Voldemort wouldn’t give to get at this kind of wealth. He could have funded his war chest indefinitely if he’d managed to seduce the Potters.”

“Let’s be very grateful that my father and grandfather were _Light_ to the point of Sainthood then,” Harry returned, moving toward a second pedestal that had appeared in the room, one carved entirely out of onyx. The box sitting on it was ancient silver and there was only one ring inside, the Heir’s Ring.

He slipped the mithril and black diamond ring onto his finger beside the other, “I, Harry James Potter, as the magical son of Lord Sirius Black, the Marquess of Blackmore, do hereby claim the legacy of the Ancient and Noble House of Black and swear to honor it all of my days. _Toujours pur_.”

The two rings on his finger began to glow and then morphed into one thick band of twisted mithril, large rubies, and small black diamonds. Harry was unprepared for the relief that settled into his bones as he adjusted easily to the heartening weight of the ring.

“I thought it would be a burden,” Harry whispered to Draco, “It feels like… like coming home.”

“Your magic is reacting with the Potter Family Magic for the first time since your parents were killed,” Draco illuminated gently, “And you’re feeling your Godfather’s magic too.”

Harry took a moment to regain his composure and then walked over to one of the crystal doors and opened it; inside was a seemingly immeasurable amount of jewelry, “Merlin, how am I supposed to locate anything in all of this?”

“Are you looking for something in particular?” Draco wondered, moving to stand beside him.

“A pair of wedding rings that Sirius mentioned once,” Harry related, entering the bright room, “You know that I can trace my family line all the way back to Arthur Pendragon and Merlin Emrys. There is a set of rings that, supposedly, Merlin crafted out of his own magic as a gift for one of his children that have been kept safe in here. My father showed them to Sirius and Remus once, while he was looking through here for an engagement ring to give to my mother.”

“What do they look like?” Draco asked, as he began perusing the haphazardly catalogued shelves.

“Each band is made of two gold dragons cradling a red diamond in between them,” Harry revealed, shifting aside a pair of copper and jacinth bracelets and a silver necklace sporting a large black opal, “According to the legend, the diamonds will turn white if one of the pair wearing the rings is in mortal danger… oh, here they are.”

Draco came over as Harry carefully removed the rings from the glass box that they had been tucked into. “They’re beautiful, Phoenix.”

“We didn’t have time to find rings to wear in the other timeline,” Harry said, a bit nervously, “But I would really like for us to wear these. Is that alright?”

“Harry,” Draco breathed out, “I would be honored.”

Harry grinned widely and then began to speak, unabashedly infusing warmth and love into every syllable that he uttered, “With magic as my witness, I, Harry James Potter, do take Draco Lucius Malfoy as my husband and my equal. Let my soul and magic be bound to his from this day until the very end of time. I vow to honor him, love him, and remain constant to him for all the days of our lives, in this world and the next. We are one soul split, now eternally rejoined. So mote it be.” Harry lifted Draco’s left hand up and slid one of the rings onto his third finger.

They were the wedding vows that only a pair of Soulmates could utter to one another. It would be the second time that Harry and Draco spoke the words to one another and, if all went according to plan, the last.

“With magic as my witness, I, Draco Lucius Malfoy, do take Harry James Potter as my husband and my equal. Let my soul and magic be bound to his from this day until the very end of time. I vow to honor him, love him, and remain constant to him for all the days of our lives, in this world and the next. We are one soul split, now eternally rejoined. So mote it be.” Draco reverently pushed the second ring onto the appropriate finger of Harry’s left hand.

It felt so ridiculously _right_ to be wearing this particular wedding ring, more right than even wearing his Lord’s Ring felt. It was more than just coming home… it was as if a piece of his soul that he had not known was missing had slotted back into place and it was amazing.

Harry pulled Draco close and kissed him heatedly, “We have to consummate our marriage before we get the wands, yes?”

“Yes,” Draco replied, “But if you think my second first time is going to take place on a pile of gold…”

Harry laughed freely, “Of course not, Dragon. There’s supposed to be a room containing loads of furniture in here. I’m sure there’s a bed. Though we could probably try that gold thing later.”

************************************************************************

There was indeed a bed, one adorned with silver silk that they broke in quite completely. They delighted in exploring one another, having, before, never been naked together until after the War.

Their bodies were almost completely devoid of scars and marks, at least when one considered how riddled they had been with such in the future of Harry and Draco’s past, and this had included the many runes that they had chosen to adorn their body with. Purchased on the black market in Shanghai from a wizard of dubious moral character, these were runes, applied with magic, that kept them healthy and protected them from most magical illnesses and maladies, runes that induced their bodies to heal twice as quickly as they normally would, though they were hardly infallible, and a variety of runes that promoted safe sexual activity.

Though they had not been tailored specifically for them, as was recommended whenever possible, and though the runes did not interact perfectly with their magic, they still would have been a hell of a lot more convenient than conjuring lube wandless through all of the thick layers of magical security that surrounded the bank – which Harry suspected he only succeeded in doing because of his magical power – and they would surely be far more expedient than having to reapply the numerous charms to prevent rectal tearing or other injury every single time that they wished to have sex. At some point, before they returned to Hogwarts, they would have to purchase more rune sets, though, this time, they would be modified just for them and would not come from an unhinged man who was just as likely to murder them as to do business with them.

It had taken Harry much too long to prepare Draco before he could slip inside of him. Once that had been achieved though, once they were rocking together, Harry buried to the hilt inside of his husband, it had taken precious little time before they were lost in the waves of their first orgasm together, having come at the same time as all Soulmates did when they were consummating their marriage.

The aftermath was the pair of them lying with their limbs intertwined, breathless and boneless, against the feather pillows with the sheets pooled at their ankles.

“I love you,” Harry murmured into Draco’s hair, inhaling the scents that were unmistakably Draco – cinnamon and Christmas Trees and the air during a raging blizzard – with such relief that he thought he might weep from it. “You’re my whole world, Dragon.”

“I love you,” Draco returned softly. “We’re going to win, Harry.”

“How can you be so sure?”

“Because, this time we aren’t reluctant allies working to stop a common enemy from different vantage points,” Draco said. “This time, we’re going to do it together with absolute trust and love, as partners, in every sense of the word. Magic is on our side- we will not fail, Phoenix.”

************************************************************************

“Our wands have turned to ash again,” Draco announced, standing naked by the sugar maple dresser where they had neatly laid their things before climbing onto the bed; Harry’s Dragon was a stickler about not having clothes strewn about on the floor.

Their wands had burned in the future too, during the very first time that they’d had sex after their cores had awoken. They had soon after learned that the wands had been tested by Lady Magic for loyalty and had failed the test spectacularly. They had reasoned, with help from the _Scrolls_ , that this had happened because the wands had tracking and restricting charms, ones with Dumbledore’s magical signature, woven into their cores. It had corrupted the wands’ magics so completely that, even after Hermione had perceived the charms’ invasive presence a few days after the end of the war and stripped the insidious spells out of the wands, they couldn’t be loyal to anyone, let alone provide the loyalty that a War Mage required of his magical tools.

“We’d better go claim the wands that Lady Magic has kept safe for us, then,” Harry replied, grabbing his clothes so that he could redress. Draco carefully swept the wand ashes into two separate pouches and then did the same.

“We’re moving that bed to whatever house we decide to live in as soon as possible,” Draco decided a few minutes later, as they entered the room where hundreds of wands were stored, “It felt as if we were lounging about on a silver cloud.”

“So better than the lumpy couch at Grimmauld Place,” Harry teased, referring to the place where he and Draco had first made love.

Draco’s eyes softened perceptibly, “Nothing could be better than that, Phoenix.”

Harry placed a gentle kiss to the side of Draco’s head and then began to scour the shelves of the wand archive for the emerald chest that Melinia had told them to find. It wasn’t easy to locate, as it was tucked into the far corner of the room, behind where a dozen relatively unremarkable wands were being displayed. But then, it would have rather defeated the purpose if just anyone could the wands.

“Here,” Harry called Draco over as he lifted what appeared to be a solid block of emerald up onto one of the display tables and placed his hands on the top.

Draco crossed the room and settled his palms on the other side of the sleek, green cube. The moment that they were both touching it, golden swirls shot through the emerald and the top of the chest morphed into an intangible, shimmering field that their hands passed through immediately. Harry could not see into the box, and he doubted that Draco could either, but his fingers almost instantaneously curled around a pair of wands. Simultaneously, he and Draco lifted their hands back out of the chest and stared at each other in wonder while pure wild magic spiraled through their cores as their new wands bonded to them. There could be no doubt that the wands they had clutched in their palms were uniquely powerful and had been crafted exclusively for them.

“Merlin,” Draco choked out. “That felt almost as good as sex.”

Harry huffed in startled amusement, “I’d be insulted that you think so, except I have to agree with you.”

                                                  

“Our primary wands are made of ten inches of goblin-wrought mithril,” Draco announced faintly, “Which is, frankly, astounding, because I’ve never heard of wands made of anything but wood before. I’m not sure how, but my magic is telling me that my primary wand’s core consists of a braid of Basilisk and Cohuatl Heartstrings.”

“The King and Queen of snakes,” Harry murmured. “It makes sense, considering the Parselmagic Runes that have been engraved into the shafts of our wands. Fire Runes for me and Ice Runes for you. Our secondary wands are made of Snakewood with cores of Golden Dragon Scales and a Black Phoenix Feather. They feel like _us_ , Dragon.”

Draco’s eyes widened, “You think that the cores of our secondary wands came from our animagus forms?”

“War Mages are usually reincarnations, right?” Harry responded. “That’s what the _Scrolls_ told us.”

“That’s true,” Draco allowed. “We need to lay low until the meeting so that the annulment period expires. I would hate to have to kill someone prematurely because they tried to challenge our marriage.”

“Sirius once told me that my family owned several unplottable properties. We can pick one out.”

************************************************************************

Pendragon’s Keep was an ancient and absolutely gorgeous castle and the entire island that it was situated on, the unplottable Phoenix Isle, was saturated in the warm and wild magic of the Potters. It made Harry’s soul hum in content to be so enveloped by it.

He and Draco had traveled directly to the front steps of the castle, which was about half the size of Hogwarts, from inside the Potter Family Vault via a Stationary Portkey, a device that projected people places but did not travel with them. Such portkeys were notoriously difficult to create, which was why only the very wealthy typically had access to them. There had been seven such portkeys in the Records Room of the vault, one for each of the unplottable Potter properties. There were two other houses to Harry’s name as well, though Harry had already decided that he was going to demolish the Peverell House and then sell the land it had resided on as soon as he possibly could, because there was no way in hell that he was keeping the home that his parents had been murdered in.

The castle proper had four stories, a basement, and four large turrets with twisting caps, while the grounds contained an expansive garden, an enormous greenhouse, an empty horse stable, which had made Draco’s eyes brighten, a pool with two water slides, and, to both Harry and Draco’s absolute delight, a full-sized Quidditch pitch. The castle was made of a dark grey stone that was nearly covered in crimson roses in full bloom and it seemed to exude a refined sense of modishness. Harry knew, from the information packet that had been filed away in the vault next to the deed for the castle, that, among numerous other things, his ancestral home boasted a library grander than any other in existence, a potions lab that most masters would kill for, a dungeon, and an armory full of ancient weapons.

In an almost magnetic fashion, Harry and Draco found themselves drawn past almost everything and to the third story, where the master bedroom was located. The room, which was located in the very heart of the castle, had been designed to interact with the magic of the master of the house- for every night that Harry slept in the room, the room would carefully draw enough magic to keep the whole castle _healthy_ for several days. The more powerful the wizard or witch, the more magic that could be taken and placed in the castle’s reserve- Harry was powerful enough that the room could take enough magic for eleven days each night without him even noticing that his abilities had been diminished in any way. It was an ancient and powerful magic, and was now considered _dark_ by many, but it had kept Pendragon’s Keep preserved better than any stasis charm could have and it had kept the Sidhe War Wards, which protected and concealed the castle from others, strong even during the years that no one had lived in the castle. The wards also prevented anyone expect a Potter by blood, marriage, or adoption from performing magic on the upper three stories.

Wordlessly, Harry shrunk the bed that was already in the room, his parents’ bed, and replaced it with the bed from the vault.

“We’ll have to replace the rest of the furnishings,” Draco commented lightly, allowing Harry to guide him toward the center of the bed. “They don’t match.”

“That’s fine,” Harry replied, before kissing his husband. “This is your home too, love, you can change whatever you like.”

“Our home,” Draco said against Harry’s lips, with not a small amount of pleasure in his voice. “Finally.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you all enjoyed this. The next chapter will be up on 3-24-17, next Friday.


	3. Secundo

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this is late. A friend of mine died recently and things have been pretty stressful.

**_Secundo_ **

“We’re going to need to purchase new wands,” Draco told him as he stirred honey and cream into his tea the next morning, “Dumbledore will undoubtedly place more tracking and restricting charms on whatever wands we publicly use and I don’t want that bastard’s magic eroding the purity of either set of our mated wands. It’ll likely cause them to burn too.”

They were currently sitting in what appeared to be the family dining room, a much smaller and less ostentatious version of the grand dining room on the first floor. The entire first floor seemed to have been designed solely for the entertainment of guests, as opposed to the three upper levels, the turrets, and the basement. There was a smaller, homier kitchen on the second floor too, where Harry and Draco had found plenty of perfectly preserved foodstuffs.

“Agreed,” Harry took a sip of his cinnamon-flavored coffee, “We’ll go to, well, not Ollivander’s, but somewhere that we can get simple, generic wands before the meeting tomorrow afternoon. They can be our decoy wands; we’ll keep them clean and completely _light_ , so that when Dumbledore or his goons scan them, which they undoubtedly will at some point or another, they’ll find nothing untoward.” Harry frowned, “If the wands aren’t loyal to us, won’t they just burn too?”

Draco shot him an exasperated, but still fond, look, “No, Phoenix. The _Scrolls_ made it very clear that only primary and secondary wands _have_ to be loyal to a War Mage. Did you forget to read that bit?”

“That was the week you walked around the house wearing nothing but that ridiculous silk robe that clung to your arse, Dragon,” Harry defended, “I was distracted!”

Draco smirked at him over his teacup, “I should have another one of those made. Anyway, our new wands will be considered _tertiary_ and so will serve us well in pulling the wool over Dumbledore’s eyes.”

“Which is why Lady Melinia told us to pledge ourselves before retrieving the Mithril and Snakewood wands,” Harry realized, feeling a bit slow, “Our old wands would have submitted to them both and become tertiary automatically and we couldn’t risk using them as our decoy wands because they were made by Ollivander.”

It had come out, about three years after the war had ended, while Harry and Draco were hiding in Prague, trying to recover from losing Ron and Hermione and the violent awakening of their cores, that Ollivander had done something very illegal when constructing the wands that he had sold to thousands over the course of many, many years. Interwoven in the core of each and every wand that he had built was a devastating spell that slowly drained the life-force of the one using it and fed it back to the one who had made it, namely Garrick Ollivander. This was why Ollivander was one of the longest-lived wizards in Britain, older even than Dumbledore, who had been spared this fate because he had long been using the Elder Wand. The wand-maker had gone so far as to pretend to be his own son to keep the deception going. He could have continued fooling people for much, much longer- if it had not been for Luna, that is.

Luna, who had promptly married Neville after the war, had turned out to be a true Seer. She had _seen_ her early death using the wand Ollivander personally made for her, which had a heavier life-draining spell than was typical, and had told Neville about it. Her overprotective, Auror husband had immediately launched an investigation, which his superiors only allowed because it _was_ odd that Britain’s witches and wizards had such lower life expectancies than those in just about every other magical community.

What came to light in the wake of that investigation had rocked the foundation of the magical world.

Ollivander had been arrested and executed, but not before it had come out that he had shown several apprentices and even a colleague or two, working as wandmakers across the world, how to utilize this black spell. The problem had been that Ollivander had been in contact with nearly every known wandmaker in existence and he had failed to provide a list of precisely _which_ wandmakers were as guilty as he was. Wandmakers everywhere were suddenly looked at with the darkest kind of suspicion, no matter how innocent they were. Over a dozen European and Asian wandmakers were brutally murdered during the ensuing panic, their shops and all their wands burnt to cinders.

Harry and Draco had remained quite oblivious to the chaos for some time, as absorbed as they were in the discovery that they were, in fact, War Mages. They had spent two months buried in the _War Mage Scrolls of Melinia_ , provided via a dream by Lady Magic herself. It was only when they resurfaced, intending to covertly purchase new wands, that they learned how desperate the situation had become.

New wands, even cheaply made ones, were scarce. There were waiting lists years long at all three of the remaining wand shops in Europe and the ones outside of Europe were too heavily monitored to get into without proper identification. This was why both Harry and Draco had been wandless when Percy and his Aurors attacked them; this was why Harry had been unable to stop the numerous piercing hexes that killed his husband.

“We’re going to have to kill him,” Harry said, “Before the truth gets out. Maybe we can blame it on the Death Eaters.”

Draco nodded, “Preferably before Voldemort gets it into his head to go after him as well.”

“How do we explain our wands burning?” Harry wondered, “We can’t reveal that we’re War Mages, not until after we’re both of age. That’ll be a dead giveaway that we’re from the future. Not much may be known about War Mages, other than the fairy tale stuff that everyone grows up on, but it _is_ known that a War Mage doesn’t gain his or her true power until after their final magical maturation at sixteen.”

“I think that we should tell everyone that Voldemort put a curse on me,” Draco replied, “And that part of breaking the curse required that we burn our wands in a cleansing fire. The other part being, of course, that you had to marry me.”

“Does a curse like that exist?” Harry asked.

“Yes,” Draco said, his voice strained, “Although it’s dark as fuck. It’s called _Corpus Deditionem aut Mortem_. The one cursed has to have submissive sex with the castor every three moonrises until they fall pregnant and then once per moon cycle for the rest of their lives. If they refuse to submit, they die. If the castor is killed by anything besides old age, they die. The only way to break the curse is for someone pure of heart to marry the one cursed and then willingly burn their primary wand with their new spouse’s.”

“Dumbledore will definitely believe that Voldemort is capable of such a thing,” Harry allowed, his stomach churning at the very thought of the curse.

“And telling everyone that you were able to save me from something so dark will help cement their erroneous belief that your affinity is Light Magic,” Draco told him, “We’ll tell them that I swore a loyalty oath to you in return.”

“A loyalty oath will hardly account for how affectionate we are toward each other, Dragon,” Harry pointed out, “Or how protective. No, we’ll tell them that we’re Soulmates. That we felt the _stirring_ last year and were frightened of it at first, which is why we kept it hidden and why you came to me for help breaking the curse instead of a random light wizard whom you could have paid off. We won’t even be lying about the _stirring_ , since that _is_ when we first felt it.”

“Dumbledore will insist on us making a trip to the _Book of Souls_ to verify that claim,” Draco stated, “And verified soulmate bonds are public record, Harry.”

“Keeping our bond a secret led to the _Light_ killing you in the future,” Harry reminded, “If it’s public, they’ll have no choice but to see that you’re kept safe. To do otherwise would lead to my death too and they need me alive to kill Voldemort.”

“We should get our new wands today,” Draco determined then, “So that I can use the wand ash to brew us each a portion of the _Draught of Sanctified Mind_. Just because Molly Weasley won’t be able to try to kill me this time doesn’t mean that she won’t attempt to find some other way to force Ginny into your life.”

“ _Kelling’s_ or _Burgmundy’s_?” Harry inquired.

“ _Kelling’s_ ,” Draco returned promptly, “ _Burgmundy’s_ is in Scotland and I’d rather not go too close to Hogwarts right now.”

“Ireland it is then,” Harry accepted his husband’s choice easily, “We’ll have to get to Dublin the Muggle way, you know, since we supposedly don’t have wands.”

Draco blinked, “I suppose apparating is out of the question and we ostensibly can’t make portkeys either at this point. How do Muggles get to other countries then?”

“Trains, boats, and aeroplanes, mostly,” Harry said, “The latter is the quickest.”

“Let’s go find one of these aeroplanes then,” Draco decided bravely, before pausing, “They’re not anything like that wretched rolling coaster abomination that you made me ride, are they?”

“Not usually,” Harry promised dryly and then, because it was seriously bothering him, “How do you know about that curse, Draco?”

Draco was quiet for a long moment, “You know that my father planned to give me to Voldemort.”

“Dragon,” Harry prompted, his gut twisting.

“He told me he would wait until I finished Hogwarts,” Draco breathed out, almost unwillingly, “But he had every intention of using that curse on me. He’s already spoken of it to me in this timeline- he did a few days ago, actually.”

“You never said,” Harry’s mouth was dry with horror.

“When I first came to you, we hadn’t yet admitted how much we needed each other and I was… _wary_ of letting you see my weaknesses. Later, you were under so much stress that I couldn’t bear to give you something else to worry about. Once the war was over and the threat of being cursed was gone…” Draco exhaled, “I just wanted to forget about it, Phoenix, so I never brought it up.”

“He won’t touch you,” Harry whispered fiercely, “Never, Dragon.”

************************************************************************

The aeroplane ride was short and uneventful; the latter was something that Harry had learned to be grateful for years earlier. Draco didn’t complain too much about having to behave as a Muggle, although he did spend five full minutes berating one of the other passengers for telling his little sister that the aeroplane was going to crash.

It was only a short walk from the airport to Cosán Seamróige, the magical community in the heart of Dublin, so Harry did not bother to suggest that they hire a car. The entrance to the community was found inbetween, of all things, an insense shop and a store that claimed to sell magical books. Harry and Draco slipped between the two redbrick buildings and walked into Cosán Seamróige without pause.

They had been there once before, it was the first place that they fled to after leaving Britain. They had stayed primarily in the _Ardaigh Óstán_ , though Harry now knew that, had he had full access to his vaults, they could have gone to Aisling Retreat, one of the properties he owned, and been completely safe there. In the end, Harry, Draco, Ron, and Hermione had only been able to hide in Ireland for a little less than a week before being forced to make for Germany.

Cosán Seamróige looked exactly the same as it had in the future, with its quaint little shops fashioned of green-hued stone and its numerous cafes and pubs. It wasn’t as crowded as Diagon Alley was on an average day and none of the witches, wizards, or the occasional leprechaun, stopped to stare at Harry and Draco. Harry figured that few, if any, of those present here would be able to recognize either of them on sight, which was just fine with him.

The wand shop, _Kelling’s_ , was nearly halfway down the path, sandwiched between a pub called _Docket’s_ and an apothecary shop called _Isteach sa Choire_. Harry and Draco entered the light and airy shop, a far cry from _Ollivander’s_ , and were greeted immediately by a man with thick red hair who, as Harry anticipated, did not seem to know who they were.

“ _Fáilte, leaids_ ,” the man said with a thick accent, “ _Tá mé_ , _Jack Kelling_ , _conas is féidir liom cabhrú leat lá atá inniu_?”

“ _Tráthnóna maith_ ,” Harry replied, his accent only a bit off, “ _Tá mé an Tiarna Potter agus is é seo mo fhear céile_ _._ _Táimid tar éis teacht a chur in ionad ár wands_.”

“You’re Londoners,” Kelling guessed, switching over to english without pause, “You’re not... _the_ Harry Potter?”

“I am,” Harry admitted.

“Well, bless me, I never _imagined_ that I would see you in my shop, Lord Potter” Kelling responded, “But you and your husband are most welcome all the same. You need new wands, you said; I have to ask, what happened to your old ones?”

“They were destroyed in a magical fire,” Draco answered, reaching into the pocket of his robes and pulling out the two small dragonhide pouches that he had secured the wand ashes in the night before so that Kelling could examine them.

Kelling waved his own wand over each of the pouches, “Definitely wand ash, the first pouch contained a holly and phoenix feather wand and the second was a wand of hawthorn with a core of unicorn hair. Both were created by Garrick Ollivander and both were primary wands at the time of their destruction… less than twenty-four hours ago. Neither of you are currently carrying a wand.”

Thank Merlin for Auror-grade, disillusioned holsters.

“Alright, that’s all I need to know. I’ll have to submit this information and that you purchased new wands from me to the British Ministry of Magic, of course.”

“That isn’t a problem,” Harry assured him.

“You should sell the ashes to a potion-maker,” Kelling suggested as Draco slipped the pouches back into his pocket. “They’re quite valuable. You can’t brew the _Draught of Intellect_ without them; they’re rather useless otherwise, though.”

That last statement was not actually true, but then, Kelling could hardly know that combining wand ash, Fire Rose extract, a Beozar, and a Phoenix feather created a potion that permanently made its drinker immune to all mind-altering spells and elixirs. After all, Draco technically had not invented the _Draught of Sanctified Mind_ yet.

“I’m going to give them to my godfather,” Draco lied. “He’s an experienced Potion’s Master.”

Kelling nodded in approval, “Let’s begin, shall we?”

************************************************************************

It was evening by the time that Harry and Draco got back to Pendragon’s Keep, in possession of a pair of rather unnoteworthy wands. Draco’s was made of Applewood with a core of unicorn hair, both of which could only help in proving to the Order that Draco was _light_ , and Harry’s had been fashioned from Cedar and dragon heartstring. They would have been back much sooner, since having wands meant that they could claim to have created a temporary portkey if anyone asked them, but Draco had insisted on scouring every potion shop in Cosán Seamróige for every single strand of Leprechaun Hair that was for sale. Harry didn’t argue, because he knew that the rare ingredient was essential for brewing the _Sanamente Serum_ , a potion that could heal the damage done by the _Crutiatus_.

“We need to buy standard holsters for these,” Draco said as they entered into the foyer, the heels of his dragonhide boots clicking as they connected with the glossy, silver and green marble flooring, “We can’t walk around with them in our back pockets like we did before. That’s just asking for trouble. It’s a bloody miracle we didn’t blast our arses off. Also, we really need to buy you a proper wardrobe, Harry. Just looking at you in your cousin’s tailored clothes is seriously depressing me.”

“ _Do you sssmell that_?” Harry hissed as the strong, savory scent of poultry being prepared hit his nostrils, unwittingly slipping into parseltongue, “ _Someonesss cooking sssomething_.”

Harry didn’t wait for Draco to respond; he raced toward the second-story kitchen, only to stop dead at what greeted him there.

“Harry Potter!” Dobby cried happily, a roasted chicken and potatoes sitting inside a floating pan directly behind the elf. There were two pots of vegetables, green beans and corn, cooking on the stove and a treacle tart baking in the oven. “Dobby has come to take care of his master, Harry Potter! Dobby is so pleased to be seeing that Harry Potter is well!”

Harry gaped at the house elf and it was Draco, who had come up behind Harry almost immediately, who finally managed to speak, “Dobby, how the _hell_ did you get in here?”

“Dobby be looking for his master, Harry Potter, because Professor Dumbles be saying that Harry Potter has disappeared,” Dobby explained, “Dobby finds you with yous Dragon last night, Harry Potter, but Dobby not be interrupting.”

“You… have you told anyone where we are?” Harry was able to get out.

“Oh, of course not!” Dobby replied, “It be no ones business now that Harry Potter is the Lord of his House. This be one of Harry Potter’s secrets and Dobby never be betraying his master, Harry Potter’s secrets.”

“I’m your master?” Harry questioned softly, “When did that happen?”

“Since yous be freeing me from the nasty Malfoy,” Dobby answered, rocking back on his heels, “Dobby only pretend to be free, so that he can watch over his Harry Potter. Dobby even take job at Hogwarts to be near you. Please don’t be freeing Dobby.”

“I would never do that to you,” Harry promised easily, “You’re my friend, Dobby, but there is great danger in being associated with me.”

“Dobby not afraid,” Dobby returned, puffing out his chest, “Dobby will protect his Harry Potter and Harry Potter’s Dragon.”

Harry opened his mouth to object to that, because he had seen firsthand the lengths that Dobby would go to keep him safe, but Draco spoke first, “We appreciate that very much, Dobby. Dinner smells wonderful, by the way.”

Dobby beamed in pride at the compliment, “It be Harry Potter’s favorite. Dinner be ready in twenty minutes.”

“Thank you, Dobby,” Draco replied, “Harry and I will take quick showers and change then.”

“We could probably conserve water if-” Harry began, following Draco out of the kitchen.

“I’m not falling for that one again, Potter,” Draco announced in a prim tone, “Now go shower, you smell far too much like shamrocks for my liking.”

Harry chuckled, “Yes, your majesty.”

************************************************************************

Dinner was amazing, as Harry had fully expected it to be. If dessert hadn’t been treacle tart, Harry’s absolute favorite, he probably would have had to decline it on account of being so full.

Harry finished his slice of tart and set down his dessert fork and then worried his lower lip thoughtfully for a moment before saying, “I wish we had time to visit Marrakesh and Tokyo before tomorrow afternoon. I’d be far happier if we each had an athame and a stave stashed away on our persons before we return to Hogwarts in September. Actually, I’d be happiest if we both had a set of dueling swords, a variety of emergency portkeys, and if all of our clothes were made of dragon hide.”

Draco rolled his eyes, “Careful, or I’ll start mistaking you for Mad-Eye, Phoenix.”

“I can’t lose you again,” Harry snapped without thinking.

Draco’s eyes widened and then he abandoned his empty plate without pause to circle around the table so that he could kneel beside Harry’s chair. He took Harry’s hands in his own, “You’re not going to lose me, Harry.”

Harry slid out of his seat to join his husband on the floor, pulling Draco onto his lap, relieved when Draco allowed the manhandling without complaint, “Watching you die destroyed me, Draco. Quite literally, actually.”

“You are never going to have to see me die again,” Draco promised fiercely.

“Plan on living forever, are you?” Harry questioned sardonically.

“I plan on us both living forever,” Draco replied seriously. “We’re going to kick Voldemort’s arse and save Magic, we’re going to scandalize the Wizarding World thoroughly in the process and remove anyone who gets in our way, and then we’re going to make lots of babies and watch them grow up, fall in love, and raise their own children and grandchildren. We’re War Mages and once we’re of age _everyone_ is going to know it.”

“How do you propose that we accomplish all this, Dragon?” Harry asked.

“For a start,” Draco leaned in close to whisper the words into Harry’s ear, “You can take me up to our bed and fuck me, Lord Potter.”

Harry groaned softly, “That is probably the most brilliant plan you’ve ever had.”

************************************************************************

Later that night, after they had significantly recovered from the ruthless orgasms that they had given each other, Draco brought the topic of Dobby back up as he lay with his head on Harry’s chest and each quiet word that Draco spoke sent little bursts of warm air across it. “You’re worried about him, about Dobby.”

“I watched him die for me once,” Harry whispered, rubbing small circles into Draco’s back, “I… it would kill me to have it happen again.”

“Then we’ll kill Bellatrix before she ever escapes from Azkaban,” Draco decided, “And, while we’re at it, we should probably kill every other confirmed Death Eater that’s cooling their heels in that blasted prison waiting for Voldemort to rescue them.”

“How do we get into Azkaban without anyone knowing?” Harry questioned, “There are human guards too and while the Dementors might not notice a giant Golden Dragon and a Black Phoenix flying in to visit, they probably will. It was a bloody miracle that Sirius managed to avoid being seen as Padfoot.”

“I think that we should use our other forms to get into the prison,” Draco suggested, “We’ll be small enough to travel through the water pipes and, since you’re a natural-born parselmouth, you’re guaranteed to be venomous.”

“We’ve never shifted into our snake forms,” Harry reminded, “We never had time to start the meditation cycle needed to shift into them.”

When Hermione had decided, while the four were tucked away in Milan, that they needed to learn how to master animagus magic, Harry, Draco, and Ron had eagerly agreed. Not just because it would be an added protection for them but because they were so very bored. There was nothing interesting or exciting about being forced to hide in one place after another. This was also why Harry had finally caved and started reading up on Parselmagic, something he had studiously avoided doing for years.

Draco had brewed the potions that allowed the four of them to enter a trance-like state to meet their animagus forms. To Harry and Draco’s utter astonishment, they hadn’t met just one form each, they’d met _three_. An ancient Golden Dragon that breathed ice instead of flame and a Black Fire Phoenix. A pair of wolves with coats the exact shades of their hair. And finally, a pair of magical vipers.

They’d only had time to finish the three-month meditation cycle for the dragon and phoenix forms before Cho Chang, leading a team of Aurors, punched holes through Ron and Hermione’s hearts. After that, Harry and Draco had been far too focused on learning everything that they could from the _War Mage Scrolls_ to even think about starting another meditation cycle. There was a spell to force a transformation immediately, of course, but Hermione had cautioned them against using it, since it could potentially damage their cores irreversibly.

“We have time now, since the breakout isn’t supposed to occur until January. We can sneak in during the Christmas holidays,” Draco told him, “And if we poison the Death Eaters with viper venom, people will assume that Voldemort sent Nagini to finish his followers off. An erroneous conclusion, of course, but since he’s the only one who has such a snake in Britain, it’ll be the conclusion that many come to.”

“People might think twice about joining Voldemort,” Harry added, beginning to truly appreciate the idea, “If they think that he’s so insane as to kill his own supposedly loyal followers.”

“Exactly,” Draco said, “Perhaps we can save some of the Grey families this time around.”

“Hiding that we’re from the future from Dobby won’t be possible for long,” Harry mused then, “In fact, he’s probably already sensed that my magic is older than it should be.”

“We’ll tell him the truth then,” Draco paused briefly, “We should probably tell Ron, Hermione, our godfathers, and Remus the truth too. We’ll need allies in this and they know us better than anyone else; losing their faith in us by lying to them would be devastating both short and long-term.”

“We probably won’t get the chance to talk to them before school starts,” Harry considered, “The Order will be paying too much attention to us. I can have Dobby take us all down to the Chamber of Secrets a few nights after the Welcoming Feast; Dumbledore has never been able to monitor the chamber like he would like to because he can’t get into it. We can tell them all then, though it would probably be easier with a pensieve.”

“I’ll send Dobby to purchase a Projection Pensieve from Germany; there’s a maker there who manufactures dream-quality pensieves,” Draco told him, “Is the Basilisk still down there?”

“No,” Harry denied, “Hermione helped me sell most of the remains after she woke up from being petrified; she needed something to do since exams were cancelled that year. I did keep the hide though and I’m going to have several sets of robes tailored for us out of it.”

“A full grown Basilisk, minus the hide, is worth nearly fifty million galleons,” Draco calculated.

“Yeah, the profits were deposited into the main Potter Vault since a transaction that large into my Trust Vault wasn’t allowed,” Harry sighed heavily, “More money for Percy Weasley and his ilk to try to steal from me.”

“They won’t get the chance this time,” Draco replied.

“Percy’s not gonna live to see twenty-five this time,” Harry vowed grimly.

************************************************************************

Harry hated having to say goodbye to Pendragon’s Keep, even though Draco promised that they would return for Christmas and Easter. Harry hoped that, one day, he and Draco would get to raise their children in the beautiful castle that was so full of warmth, magic, and love.

They portkeyed to Diagon Alley, using a piece of conjured rope that disintegrated upon their landing, under a disillusionment spell; Harry figured that they would have to avoid apparition until they had publicly “learned” how to do it. Arriving invisible turned out to have been an excellent precaution to take, because there were several members of the Order, and even more Death Eaters, patrolling the shops and cafés of the Alley. Harry and Draco carefully slipped past them all, never letting go of each other’s hand.

The spell rendering them invisible fell away the moment that they entered the bank, as they’d known that it would. They were met at the front doors by Griphook and Harry had to fight to keep a furious scowl off of his face. He had never forgiven the goblin for betraying him during the search of Bellatrix’s vault.

“This way, please,” Griphook said, leading them into a part of the bank that Harry had never before entered. This section of Gringotts was far lighter than the catacombs were and even more opulently adorned than the front room. Griphook made them stop before a set of heavy oaken doors, which he knocked on thrice.

The doors swung open by themselves to reveal all the people that Harry had invited to this meeting, the Minister for Magic, Amelia Bones and several of her high-ranking Aurors, Dumbledore, Remus, and the Goblin Chieftain, Ragnuk the fifth. There were also several people present that Harry had _not_ invited, namely Arthur, Molly, Alastor ‘Mad-Eye’ Moody, Delores Umbridge and a handful of other Order members, only two of whom Harry even recognized, Kingsley Shacklebolt and Emmeline Vance. Everyone was sitting around a large, heavy table carved from what appeared to be a solid piece of green granite. The atmosphere was thick with tension and Dumbledore stood immediately upon seeing him.

Harry led Draco inside, ignoring the stares that their laced fingers garnered, and turned to Ragnuk first, “Chieftain, may your wealth overflow and your enemies fall before your feet.”

“Likewise, Lord Potter,” Ragnuk replied with a solemn nod.

“Several of the people in this room were not on the approved guest list for this meeting, Chieftain,” Harry pointed out, as he and Draco took seats near to the closing doors.

“I have already informed Dumbledore of this,” Ragnuk said, as the headmaster reluctantly sat back down, “But he insisted that you would approve of their presence here. Shall I have them thrown from the building, Lord Potter?”

Harry pretended to seriously consider the offer before shaking his head, “That won’t be necessary. The information that I’m about to disclose will be public soon enough that their presence isn’t an issue, Chieftain, but I thank you for your offer.” Harry cleared his throat and turned to Fudge, who was frowning heavily at him, “Do you know why I’ve called this meeting, Minister?”

“Well-”

Harry cut him off quickly, “I’ve called this meeting because you have spent an entire month telling everyone you could get to listen to you, which is quite a significant number of people, unfortunately, that I’m an attention-seeking liar, a ‘spoiled brat with mind-damage’ are the words that Rita Skeeter quoted from you to describe me just this morning. You’ve smeared my name and done your level-best to damage the reputation of my magical house. That ends today.”

“Mister Potter-” Fudge began.

“ _Lord_ Potter,” Harry corrected harshly, “You will use my magical title or I will see you at the other end of a dueling platform, Minister.”

“How could you have claimed your title?” Umbridge demanded to know, “Your family magic should have rejected you for your lies!”

“It would have,” Harry glared darkly at the woman, “If I had, in fact, been lying.”

“The Dark Lord has not returned!” Fudge all but shouted, rising from his seat in obvious agitation.

Draco flicked out his Applewood wand, causing several others to do the same out of instinct, and crossed it over his heart, “I, Draco Lucius Potter, do solemnly vow on my magic and my life that Tom Marvolo Riddle, known more commonly as the Dark Lord, _Voldemort_ , is alive and, as of July the thirtieth, was plotting to take over the Ministry of Magic with my father inside of Malfoy Manor. This I swear, so mote it be.”

Fudge sat back down in his seat, hard, his face pale and his lips white.

“ _Potter_ ,” Molly exclaimed, “How can you possibly use that name?”

“Because he’s my husband,” Harry told them all blithely, “I married him two days ago, on my birthday, in fact.”

Harry really was relishing the horrified shock on her face. He didn’t feel one ounce of pity for her; after all, this was the woman who had tried to potion Harry into killing Draco in the future. If he did not care about Ron so much, he would savor the destruction of Molly Weasley when her time came.

“Proudfoot, Dawlish,” Amelia Bones spoke up, “Head back to the DMLE and gather together as many experienced Aurors as you can. Have an arrest warrant for Lucius Malfoy drawn up immediately. I want us to be raiding Malfoy Manor within the hour.”

“Just one moment, please, Madame Bones,” Harry held up a hand to stop the men from leaving, “There is one other thing that I need you to witness today.” Harry drew out his new wand and copied Draco’s earlier actions with it, “I, Harry James Potter, Lord of the Ancient and Noble House of Potter, do solemnly vow on my life and magic that Sirius Black is innocent of the crime he was thrown, without trial, into Azkaban for. Peter Pettigrew was my parents’ Secret Keeper and it was he who betrayed them to Voldemort. Pettigrew is alive and was instrumental to Voldemort’s resurrection in June. I have repeatedly told the Minister these facts but he has, thus far, chosen to ignore them. This I swear, so mote it be.”

“Merlin’s Beard, Fudge!” Amelia whirled on the Minister like a hurricane, “You knew that Black was innocent and still had my Aurors waste precious time searching for him?”

“I didn’t believe, Mister, er, Lord Potter,” Fudge replied quickly, “He was emotionally devastated after fighting off the Dementors and a werewolf… I… I didn’t believe him, Amelia.”

“They’ll throw you from office when this gets out,” Amelia warned harshly, with no trace of pity to be found in her countenance, before turning back to Harry, “Is there anything else you need me for, Lord Potter?”

“No, Madame Bones, thank you very much for your time,” Harry said.

Amelia stalked out of the chamber, her Aurors following behind her quickly, worry and shock plain to see on all of their faces.

“The way I see it,” Harry said cordially, leaning back in his seat as if he didn’t have a care in the world, “You’re screwed, Minister. Unless, of course, I could be convinced to publicly back your administration.”

“Why would you do that?” Fudge asked roughly.

“Because _you_ are going to immediately pardon my godfather, Sirius Black, announce that you are very, very sorry for ever doubting my word regarding Voldemort, exonerate Hagrid and give him back his right to carry a wand, and then you are going to make it required by law for every employee of the Ministry to be regularly checked for the Dark Mark, the Imperious Curse, and any and all mind-altering potions or spells,” Harry announced, “Do all of that and I’ll back your administration. The way I see it, it would be better to have someone like you, whom we all know isn’t a Death Eater, than a stranger taking up the office who might possibly have sympathies to the so-called Dark Lord.”

“I suppose I have little choice but to comply with your _requests_ , Lord Potter,” Fudge rose, shaking slightly, from his seat, “Black and Hagrid will be pardoned before the day is up, you have my word. Come along, Delores.”

Fudge’s pink toady obediently followed him out, glaring all the while at Harry. Harry wished he could have ordered Fudge not to try to send her to Hogwarts, but he couldn’t risk anyone in the Ministry becoming suspicious of _how_ he knew that Fudge was planning to do such a thing in the first place. No matter, he would simply have to make Umbridge’s life a living hell once she got to the school, and find a way to end her as soon as he could, because she was too fucking dangerous to leave alive, without garnering suspicion upon himself or Draco.

“Harry,” Dumbledore finally spoke up, and he _had_ been uncharacteristically silent throughout the previous few minutes. “I do believe you owe us an explanation about your whereabouts.”

“The only person in this room who deserves an explanation from me is Remus, who I’m very sorry to have worried,” Harry looked at his uncle, “How’s Padfoot doing?”

“How do you think he’s doing?” Remus responded dryly, “He’s been terrified out of his wits since you disappeared from your Aunt and Uncle’s house.”

Harry grimaced, “I’ll explain why I had to leave, but I’d rather only have to do it once.”

Remus looked at Draco curiously but not pejoratively, which Harry appreciated a great deal, “Aren’t you a little young to get married, Cub?”

“That’s… part of the explanation. Where, exactly, is Padfoot?” Harry questioned.

“We’ll take you to him,” Remus assured.

“We’ll take you to him after you provide a good explanation of where you’ve been, young man,” Dumbledore interjected in the benignly domineering manner of his which he had always liked to utilize when Harry was being _difficult_ , “And why are you using a Cedar wand instead of your Holly one? Changing wands in these times is a remarkably foolish thing to do.”

Not true in the least, but then, Dumbledore was probably irritated about having to replace the tracking and restricting charms without either Harry or Draco noticing.

“I’m not telling you a damn thing until you take me to Padfoot,” Harry snapped back at him, “Unless you’d like me to call Madame Bones back and let her know that you abused your position as the Chief of the Wizengamot to have my parents’ _Will_ sealed. A document that explicitly stated that I was never supposed to live with my Muggle relatives and that Pettigrew was their Secret Keeper. Had you not done such a thing, Sirius would never have spent twelve fucking years being tortured by Dementors and I wouldn’t have had to endure years of my aunt and uncle trying to _beat and starve the magic out of me_!”

Dumbledore leaned back in his seat heavily, his countenance one of ashy stone and his voice void of any emotion as he all but whispered, “Harry, I… I didn’t realize… you never said…”

“I begged you repeatedly not to send me back to the Dursleys,” Harry forged on mercilessly, “You should have wondered why. Ron and the twins had to _rescue_ me from them before Second Year; did you really not find that the least bit worrisome?”

Dumbledore’s aura flared without warning, barely repressed fury in his eyes that had Harry surreptitiously flicking his primary wand into his hand and pointing it at the older wizard beneath the table. Dumbledore took a deep breath and then instructed, “Take your nephew and his… husband to Headquarters, Remus. I’ll meet you there shortly. I need to pay a quick visit to Privet Drive.”

“I’ll come with you,” Moody decided, “To make sure that you don’t completely lose your temper, Albus.” The former Auror shot Draco a look of warning as he stood that had Harry bristling in irritation, “We _won’t_ be long.”

Dumbledore nodded and the two stalked out of the room. Harry was a bit taken aback- he had not expected Dumbledore to be so genuinely upset about what Harry had just revealed. Harry and Draco had always assumed that Dumbledore had known exactly how cruelly the Dursleys had treated the child whom he had placed in their care.

“Well,” Ragnuk drawled, his tone laced heavily with amusement, “I haven’t witnessed anything quite so entertaining in years.”

Harry huffed quietly, “Thank you very much for allowing us the use of this room and for your time, Chieftain.”

“Let’s get you two to Headquarters,” Remus released a long-suffering sigh, “Fair warning, Cub, once we get you to him, Padfoot’s probably never going to let you out of his sight again.”

 

**_Irish Translations_ **

  * _Fáilte, leaids_ – Welcome, lads
  * _Tá mé_ , _Jack Kelling_ , _conas is féidir liom cabhrú leat lá atá inniu? –_ I’m Jack Kelling, how can I help you today?
  * _Tráthnóna maith_ – Good evening
  * _Tá mé an Tiarna Potter agus is é seo mo fhear céile._ _Táimid tar éis teacht a chur in ionad ár wands_. – I'm the Lord Potter and this is my husband. We have come to replace our wands.



**Author's Note:**

> This is the first book in a series, so nobody panic if certain important events do not come to pass by the end of this particular book. I promise, we'll get there, :).
> 
> I hope you that all enjoyed this!


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